Little Boxes
by Goddess of the Rain
Summary: Chrome had her own, strange little way of passing time... 6996 oneshot


Chrome needed something to hold on to. She'd take anything. And that's why she did what she did. It was childish and stupid. Moronic. Uncanny. But she didn't care. She didn't care how many times she had to do it, or how long it would take, just as long as she could have something real to hold.

And so the cardboard box hidden in the back of her closet continued to fill up.  
>The boxes contained within this larger box were each unique in their own way. Each possessed a different personality.<p>

These were the discarded boxes. There was always one she was currently using.  
>She had seen couples that keep a special box full of memories of their times together on multiple occasions. Little trinkets for them to pick up, hold in their hands, and say "remember when we…" or "Oh, that's from the time when…"<p>

Chrome didn't have any of this. She had her boxes. Who was to say that she couldn't fill them?  
>And that's just what she did. She took the boxes and began slowly filling them up with random objects. One would consider the majority of the items junk. 'One man's junk is another man's treasure,' Chrome would say to herself. After weeks of collecting, and when the box was almost unable to close, she'd take it apart.<p>

Every so often, maybe two or three times a week, she would take an object out of the box. She'd lie on her bed, turning it over and over in her hands. While she sat there, she would attach a memory to it.

The unfortunate thing was that Chrome had no memories of her and him together. Her imagination would create innocent fantasies based around that item. Maybe a walk through the park would be embodied by a withering wildflower, or a stray bead would be from a necklace he had "given" her. Once every item had a memory, the whole box was stored in the bigger box in her closet. She would come across another box, and the cycle would begin again.

This went on for ten years.

Of course, she'd see Mukuro in her subconscious. They'd chat and exchange smiles, but it wasn't a replacement for a real-world meeting. This is why she was so attached to the boxes. They were a substitute for all that went on in their dream world. Chrome never told him about the boxes during their fictional (but yet not) exchanges. He would have found it ludicrous. She believed that he would have seen her as wanting a materialistic relationship, but this was entirely untrue. She just wanted something solid to grasp in the disappointing real world.

During that tenth year, and the accumulation of over fifty boxes later, her dream came true. He wasn't released, but broken out. It didn't matter to her. She was just glad that she could finally feel the real warmth of his hand on hers. For him, the happiness was mutual, but she was unaware of this.

It was a calm evening a few days after their encounter. Chrome slipped into her bedroom, about to retire for the night. She almost didn't notice the note laying on her bed.

_Meet me on the 5th story balcony. _

Her heart skipped a beat as she made her way up to the highest floor of the mansion.

The French doors to the balcony were wide open, framing the fellow illusionist as he leaned on the railing. He peered over his shoulder and motioned for her to join him.

The sweet, warm air caressed her cheeks as she looked at the skies above.

"It's a beautiful night," she smiled. She saw a grin crawl across his face as well.

"Certainly not as beautiful as you."

Chrome could feel her cheeks turn warm, certain that they were tinted a light red. The two stood in silence as they observed the Italian countryside.

"I know about the boxes, you know," he glanced to the side, catching her amethyst eye in his gaze.

"Wh-wha?" she was so embarrassed, she just wanted to run and hide.

"H-how do you…"

"I can read your thoughts, you know," he chuckled.

She hung her head in shame. She knew their relationship was over.

"I found it cute, if you're wondering."

His words made her look up, her face turning a deep rosy color. She didn't want to make eye contact. A horrendous sinking feeling was building in her stomach, and was evidenced by the trembling in her hands.

"From now on, I want to make a proper memory box with you," he lifted her chin with his pointer finger so his gaze could once again meet her singular eye. She laughed softly in delight, the knot inside her gone in an instant.

Chrome hadn't noticed the box sitting beside him until the moment he reached out to hand it to her. It was made of solid wood, oak, if she was correct in guessing the dark color. A painting of a sunny orchard adorned the lid. The way it was cracked and faded made her guess it was an antique.

"Oh, Mukuro-sama," she softly gasped, "It's gorgeous!"

He gently placed his hands over hers, and looked directly at her.

"Chrome, I'm in love with you," a faint edge of seriousness laced his voice "I've wanted to tell you that for the longest time…"

"But you were too embarrassed to admit it?"

He chuckled a bit and nodded.

"Can I say that I've been in love with you for a really long time, too? Because I have," she replied, a tear of happiness beginning to well in the corner of her left eye.

He leaned in and placed a light kiss on her lips. He lingered over them for just a second before whispering gently.

"Just open the box."

He lifted his hands off of hers, as she looked down at the box that she had nearly forgotten was in her hands.

She obliged by lifting the lid. The smell of rich wood from another time swirled in the air. Another, smaller box rested inside. It was velvety and colored a deep blue almost as dark as the heavens that hung above their heads. She curiously reached in to take it out.

"That one's mine," he smirked, gently taking the orchard box from her, and pulling out the blue one.

He got down on one knee, and held out the velveteen box. He lifted the lid to reveal its contents to Chrome.

Two things were contained in that box: one tangible and the other intangible. She was overjoyed to see the bright, shiny object, but even more so at the question he asked. For the past ten years, all she wanted was something to hold. Now, she felt as if his four simple words carried more value to her than anything she'd ever possessed. Every emotion she expressed to him, every word that they spoke, every smile they shared, amassed itself into a simple, one-word answer.

"Yes."

* * *

><p><strong><em>This was from a dream I had the other night. (Quite a stark difference from the dream about zombies I had the night before. lol)<em>**

**_I'd like to once again thank my wifey leopardstarismyleader for editing my crap~ She can't stand reading 6996 fics. ;D But she loves me, so she can't complain.  
><em>**

**_Hope you enjoyed reading this!_**


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